Jim Rhodes is slightly late for the meeting with Tony's acquisitions company, and slides into the nearest seat, trying not to disturb the discussion going on. He settles in. Pepper is there, along with Tony, and a little old man in a wheelchair, and on Rhodey's other side, a woman.

Tony grins. There are things he *knows* about his friend: Rhodey likes good Mexican food; basketball; rhythm & blues—

And one thing that Jim doesn't admit when sober, but that is true nonetheless is that when it comes to women, James Rhodes *loves* them with small waists and great, big chests; the bouncier the better.

Given the dimensions of the woman sitting next to Rhodey, Tony figures Christmas just came early for his best friend. Clearing his throat, he speaks up. "Colonel Rhodes, I'd like you to meet Odie Zody, and his daughter Jodie Zody of Zody and Sons."

It's to Tony's credit that he actually says all this without laughing, and Pepper is looking down at her laptop, biting her lips. Rhodey looks slightly suspicious as he glances towards Tony, but before he can say anything, the man in the wheelchair speaks up. "So *you're* the pilot Mr. Stark mentioned. Good to meet you, son; damned good to meet you." He holds out his hand, and Rhodey leans over to shake it, clearly surprised at the calluses and grip Mr. Zody has.

Tony was too.

"Thank you, sir," he responds politely, just as Tony knew he would. Tony is waiting for the moment when Rhodey actually *looks* at the woman, and counts down in his head as the colonel turns: three, two, one—

It's a lovely moment for Tony to see Rhodey hesitate a few seconds, poise gone as he takes in the luscious figure of Miss Jodie Zody. Not that Tony isn't enjoying it too, to a certain degree, although he's content to keep his letching more for show than fact.

Hard to work up a good leer when one's appetite is so richly sated at home, he knows that now.

"Colonel," Jodie murmurs, her voice musical and sweet. "Mr. Stark has been telling us all about you."

"All about me?" Rhodey echoes, and Tony hears the doubt and worry in his tone.

"You bet," he chimes in, digging a little because it's fun to tease Jim. "Height, weight, measurements, turn-offs and turn-ons—"

Now Rhodey is shooting him an evil glare, but Jodie is laughing, a bubbly giggle. "Mr. Stark is quite the kidder. He's been going on about your flying experiences. Dad and I are seriously impressed."

Tony catches Rhodey's eye and he makes it clear in that single glance that there *will* be further teasing at some future date.

And there is, once Rhodey returns from escorting the Zodys out to their car.

"So, going to need a snorkel, Platypus?" Tony comments. "I'm guessing you'll need one if you're going diving in *that* cleavage." He smirks at Rhodey's expression. Even though they've been friends for years, he still rises to the bait every damned time.

"Man, that was crude even for *you,*" Jim complains, not exactly denying the charge.

"Hey, hey, I'm not the one with da bust lust here. And before you try and deny it, remember who you're attempting to lie to."

"Fine. She's definitely . . . endowed. And yeah, she's a looker; I'll give you that. But--" Jim sighs, "She's too young for me, Tony. I don't rob cradles."

Tony shrugs, not convinced. "She may be young, but she's running the show with the company—or weren't you listening?"

"I was listening."

"Yeah, with your *eyes.* Trust me, pal, she's the one with the art degree and the portfolios to back it up. On that tour? Miss double D Zody's going to be asking you questions thick and fast, so you'd better be able to keep up."

"Don't call her that," Jim protests, making Tony smirk again. "And anyway, the tour won't be for at least a week. I'm sure she'll have forgotten all about the offer."

"Don't think so," Tony shoots back with a knowing smile. "And anyway, both of you are invited to the holiday party out at the children's hospital in two days. With luck she'll wear something slinky just for you, Platypus."

Jim smiles crookedly. "Right. Because she's all about the flyboys."

"Given the number of toy planes Zody & Sons puts out--" Tony replies, his tone serious for a moment, "I'm counting on it."

*** *** ***

Later that afternoon, Tony is working with Jarvis on integrating a new set of circuit relays for the Suit extremities when a warm scent drifts into the workshop. He stops and sniffs the air, trying to place what the smell is, because it's familiar but not common. After three more deep breaths, he tells Jarvis to keep running the simulations, and then Tony trots up the stairs, determined to solve the mystery.

Up in the main living room the scent is stronger—clove, allspice, nutmeg-- and in one flash, he knows what it is. A brief smile dimples his face, and Tony turns to the kitchen, looking in from the doorway to see the rows and rows of cooling gingerbread men along the counters.

"Aha. It's beginning to *smell* a lot like Christmas," Tony notes with satisfaction. "Sheesh, plan on feeding all of Los Angeles here?"

Pepper looks up from where she's rolling out the last of the dough, her movements well-practiced. "I doubled the recipe because I thought it might be nice to have extras for the Stark Industries staff room this year. And do NOT touch those; they're still cooling."

"Okay, okay," Tony replies, a little annoyed at being caught poking the nearest one. "I'm getting hungry looking at them, though."

"There's leftover pizza in the fridge," she tells him, and begins pressing the cutter into the rich brown dough. He comes over and watch her, fascinated to see Pepper stamp out six more men, scoop them up gently with a spatula, and set them onto a cookie sheet.

"You make such a cute Doctor Frankencookie," he tells her. "Creating images of men from inert ingredients."

"I'll be sure to make one with icing stitches," Pepper murmurs, her mouth crooking in a smile.

Tony perks up. "Oooh, decorating. My forte, Snuggles; something I'm sure you never knew."

"Is that a fact?"

"Yes," Tony assures her, lifting his chin. "My gingerbread art is . . . legendary."

"I could play center for the Lakers judging by how you're pulling my leg," Pepper banters back, but she casts an eye towards one of the counters, where the icing bag and bowls of gumdrops, sprinkles and various other candies sit waiting. Tony follows her gaze and his glee peaks as he bounces over to the art center.

"I can take a hint. Time to display my *other* talents," he announces, and Pepper bites her lips to keep from laughing. Grown man Tony Stark may be, but it's a tender thing to see the boyish side of him in these private moments, and Pepper knows it's been a long time since Tony allowed himself to show it.

"Did you wash your hands?" she chides.

Tony gives a huge put-upon sigh. "I'm not infectious, if that's your worry."

"I'm concerned with sanitary and non-toxic, primarily."

He lifts his hands, sniffs them, and in a prudent move, heads to the sink to rinse off lubricating oil. Pepper snickers, and slides the last tray into the oven. By the time she turns around, Tony is drying his palms on his shirt and heading back to the decorating center. "And now, the chance to see a maestro at work."

"Of course," she agrees sweetly. "Oh signore of the sprinkles."

"Imperatore of icing; Grande duca of gumdrops," Tony murmurs self-importantly. "By the way, I require a lovely assistant to ooh and ahh."

"Oh certainly," Pepper hoots, but saunters closer.

Tony slips an arm around her, dipping her in a smoothly urbane move before pulling her up again. "Did I mention the lovely assistant should be naked, too?"

Slightly dizzy, and vastly amused, Pepper shakes her head a fraction. "Is that a fact? Essential to your creative vibe, is it?"

"Completely," Tony tells her in his most sincere voice. "Better lose everything, right away."

"Nnnnnno," Pepper replies with a sweet smile. "I'd never live down the shame if I distracted a genius from his artistry."

"But it's essential to the process; vital to spark the muse," comes the coaxing tone. "It's a well-established fact that naked baking and decorating has produced the world's greatest confections. Cleopatra's ladyfingers; Bluebeard's many wedding cakes; the petite fours of Einstein, all created sans clothing."

"And now I know precisely *why* your eyes are brown," Pepper laughed. "Your concentration isn't on baking, it's on boffing. I've yet to see any gingerbread artistry, Tony."

He sighs and reluctantly lets her go. "You're stifling my peace of mind. Don't blame *me* if I don't produce my best work here."

"Waaaai-ting."

Tony draws in a deep breath, and picks up the icing bag. After a few small squeezes to get the pressure right, he moves to the gingerbread man on the end and proceeds. Under Pepper's amused gaze, he draws on the clean lines of a suit jacket, sleeves, pant hemlines and shoes. Finished with the foundation, Tony adds small gumdrop buttons, cementing them in place with icing, and goes back to do the face, concentrating intently. Under his fingers, the features show a fairly generic man, smiling.

Standing back, Tony waves at his work. "Do I pass the audition?"

"And is this someone in particular, or just the standard?" She demands gently.

Tony rolls his eyes and makes sunglasses over the eyes. "Fine. It's Happy; happy now?"

Pepper stares down at the gingerbread man, her smirk delightful. "He's, um . . ."

"Thinner, yeah. I'm making him look good for the holidays," Tony tells her. "Come on, admit it; I have the chops for cookie art. I need to hear you say it."

"Okay, okay, I'm impressed," Pepper admits, her smirk widening to a smile. "And to think I was worried you were going to go . . . Tony!"

He looks up from the second cookie, striving for innocence. This confection now sports rounded breasts with definite cleavage, and the icing thong is drawn with clear attention to detail. "What? Just giving Happy a girlfriend here."

Pepper drops her hands on her hips, torn between laughing and scolding. "That's not for public consumption."

"You're telling me," comes the quick reply. "I hope they have a gingerbread house. Or garage, in Happy's case."

"Stop it! I'm not making *obscene* gingerbread people—these are supposed to be for your office!"

"Yeah, and think how more popular they'll be if we go with the 'Naughty List' scenario," Tony enthuses, lifting the icing bag to consider the next cookie. "Sex sells, you know."

Pepper reaches over to take the icing bag from him, her annoyance quite clear now. "Some of us prefer loftier aspects of the season, Mr. Stark. Hand it over."

"Come and get it," he taunts, and the battle is on. Pepper twists up her mouth and makes a grab, but Tony is quicker and shifts the tool, moving it out of her reach. He slides around the big marble top island, staying tantalizingly in arm's reach, and bats his eyes at her. "God, you're beautiful when you're annoyed, Pepper. I think that's why I used to piss you off so much all these years, just to see that *spark* in your eyes."

"Give me that icing or I'll . . ." Pepper tries to think of a suitable threat.

"You'll spank me?" Tony offers, picking up a cookie and using it as a puppet version of himself, making his voice higher. "Ohh Snuggles, yes, yes, spank your bad, bad cookie man! Spank him until he gives up his icing---"

The utter ridiculousness of this makes Pepper laugh hard; she doubles up against the counter, wheezing a little, trying to stay mad and completely unable to do it. Tony joins in, setting the cookie down, but as he leans on the counter, he presses the bag, and icing squirts.

It lands on Pepper's arm in a white squiggle, sweet yet obscene in the aftermath of Tony's words, and Pepper laughs all over again, nearly collapsing in a paroxysm of giggles. Tony stumbles over and bends down licking the smear of decorative sugar off her arm, deliberately making his tongue swipe as lascivious as possible.

"St-st-stop or I really *will* spank you," she orders in little gasps, and moves to grab the icing bag. Tony tries to take it back, but in the struggle, another blast of white squirts out, looking like a rope of toothpaste.

Or worse.

It lands on Tony's shirt, and he glances down at it, then up again, his expression utterly smutty. "Was it *good* for you, baby?"

Pepper blushes and laughs again. "T-Tony! Stop!"

"Hey, *you're* the one going off prematurely here!"

Pepper manages to set the bag on the counter before brushing back a stray strand of bangs and then reaches out for Tony's shirt. She sets her mouth in her imperious mode. "Okay, you want naked cookies, you've got it, Tony. Strip, right now."

Her tone brooks no argument, and Tony glances around for a moment, then shrugs and peels off his shirt and jeans. Pepper takes them and tosses them nonchalantly out the kitchen door. "Boxers too."

"Fine," Tony bluffs in the buff, holding them out. "And you?"

"Oh I never said *I* was getting naked now, did I?"

"Whoa, time out—" Tony interjects, looking sheepish and slightly cold. "I thought this was a joint effort here."

Pepper pauses and looks at him. Tony, naked is one of her favorite sights, actually. He's so beautifully compact; without an ounce of fat, with incredible skin and natural athletic poise. Seeing her gaze he preens a little, and that small measure of male vanity makes her smirk. "Tony, the cookies need to be decorated by *today.* Neatly, in G-rated fashion. If you do a good job, I will take you into the bedroom and personally decorate *you.*"

Tony's lashes flutter, and Pepper can see the quick throb of his half-stiff erection responding to her cooing words. "God, really?"

She moves closer, brushing her lips against his, nuzzling his mouth and enjoying the heat rising off of Tony. "Oh really," Pepper promises.

The cookies are done in record time.

The icing is cool, and Tony tries not to flinch, but it's difficult when the chill is moving down his bare chest. Pepper straddles his hips, her concentration a beautiful thing as she slowly dots buttons of icing down his naked midline.

He looks down, but it's hard to see with the arc in the way, so he concentrates on watching Pepper instead. Being under her is quickly becoming one of his favorite positions anyway; Pepper on top allows him to savor her in her rare times of uninhibited joy. Pepper in the throes of sexual happiness is a lovely sight; one he intends to create very soon.

"Stop wiggling," Pepper murmurs.

"It's cold."

"That's because you're warm," she purrs. "Just out of the oven, and ready to be nibbled on."

Tony likes the sound of that, and patiently waits as Pepper puts small peppermints on the icing dots, then climbs off of him and looks down at her handiwork with satisfaction. Tony rises to his elbows and looks down at himself. "Just buttons?"

"Just wait," she tells him and pushes Tony back down.

To watch her; feel her lick each mint off is ticklish and urgent and arousing. Tony feels the swipe of her tongue along the muscles of his stomach, the hot kiss of her breath and groans. It's also a thrill to know that the direction Pepper is moving is towards his feet, and by the time the last button is crunched up, he's fully erect.

Pepper lies along his side and laughs softly. "This is going to be different," she promises, and slips her lips around his cock.

Tony gives a helplessly happy groan because the combined heat of her mouth and the chill of the peppermint in it send wild sensations all along the veined length of his shaft. His hips arch up and one hand reaches for her ass, squeezing it.

The torture is slow and sweet; Pepper is too damned good at drawing out the exquisite give and take of a blowjob, and Tony has no problems with that AT all. Playful, tender, gentle and naughty; Pepper is all of that. She goes deep, she licks, she strokes with her fingers and hums softly and Tony lies there, panting and thanking God this woman is in love with him.

Finally though, he gives a groan that Pepper understands; teasing time is over and she begins to move with sweet deliberation, bringing Tony to the brink and into the driving thrusts of orgasm as he sees stars behind his closed eyelids. He growls in deep pleasure and slumps back against the sheets, sated and drained.

Pepper wipes her mouth with her thumb and shifts to curl up next to him. "Run, run, as fast as you can—"

"Not running," Tony murmurs, eyes still closed. He reaches for her, arms around her snugly. "This gingerbread man is staying put and ready to bake anytime."

"Oh good," Pepper whispers, fingers gently stroking his softened shaft. "I want to make doughnuts next."

Tony laughs.